


We Are Made From Broken Parts (We Were Broken From the Start)

by LostandLonelyBirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Dick Grayson, Batman: A Death in the Family, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne is a Dick, Dubious Morality, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Gen, Hurt Damian Wayne, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Jason Todd, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Murder, Protective Dick Grayson, Psychological Trauma, bc Joker seriously should have died FOREVER ago, he could at least let someone else kill him, it's complicated - Freeform, with regards to his moral compass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 21:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUNNFROMTHEAK/pseuds/LostandLonelyBirds
Summary: He did it to protect them, to save them from the darkness within. Things were only getting worse as his family sat on the precipice, broken bones and full body casts becoming increasingly common as their frustration grew. He was the only one who saw the darkness in them, saw his own, and acknowledged it. Dick Grayson knew what the future held if he didn’t do something, anything, to stop his family from crumbling further to pieces, fracturing more than they already had after the deaths of Jason and Damian and Bruce and Tim (and him). Crime was a never-ending cycle, but it had never been so apparent. He wouldn’t let them become the demons clawing at their subconscious, wouldn’t let Damian or Jason dirty their hands any further, wouldn’t let Bruce or Tim stain their souls with more guilt.He became a monster so they wouldn’t have to, he damned himself so they could stay pure.To make sure his family wouldn’t cross that line keeping them human, Dick Grayson set fire to his bridges and watched them all burn.





	We Are Made From Broken Parts (We Were Broken From the Start)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this thing. The concept of Dick murdering has always been fascinating to me, because he's shown a willingness to do it (even at the cost of his sanity as seen when he killed the Joker) but still has the Batman's morality. So, I asked myself what would happen if the Batfamily grew darker, grittier. What would Dick do to save them? What would make them reconsider their actions?  
Dick isn't who he is because he enjoys it, he's sacrificing himself for his family.  
Welcome to the fall of the Last Flying Grayson.

Part One: Batman

He remembers his first kill with the greatest clarity; It had been what changed him, what permanently took him off Batman’s path of righteousness and down the road to hell. Up until then it had been small steps, toeing the line more than normal (for him, at least). More violence than strictly necessary, saving villains stupidly blowing themselves up with less urgency than was demanded of him. Even with him questioning the morals Bruce had drilled into him since he was 9, he’d yet to truly break from them. He’d thought they were getting better, his unexpected lack of control forcing them to reassess their own. Where he left criminals in casts, the family merely knocked them out with a well-aimed punch.

That was before Joker escaped.

Before Dick stained the blue of Nightwing with his unforgivable sins.

Joker had died before, after organizing a breakout of the entire Asylum and goading him with the deaths of his little brothers.

_“His name was **Jason**, wasn’t it?”_

He remembers the blood splatter dripping from his suit, the metallic scent filling his nostrils, consuming his senses. His actions slowly dawning on him as Batman breathed life back into the monster he’d killed, that he’d stopped.

Even the realization that Tim wasn’t dead hadn’t quelled the anger he’d felt (_at Batman, at the Joker, at himself_), the molten satisfaction that had filled him at the sight of the clown’s corpse.

Even the shame and weight of what he’d done didn’t suffocate the flame of righteous fury, nor the high the killing had given him. (_But __not murder,_ _never murder, murder was senseless and killing had a purpose_).

But the Joker didn’t stay dead,

And Dick didn’t know if he hated himself more because he killed the Joker or because the clown didn’t stay dead.

He wasn’t sure which was worse.

So, he drank away the memories and guilt, dead eyes and a bloodied smile haunting his sleep.

It became the unspoken dirty secret the three of them held close to their chests. The killing of the Joker went unreported, undocumented, and ignored. The only sign of it ever happening remained in the look of distrust lingering in Batman’s eyes, the whisperings of doubt in his mind, of his true feelings, of what darkness existed in him. Dick knew Batman felt he wasn’t as remorseful as he should be, as self-torturing as he was taught to be,

_(even though he’d torn himself apart with guilt, self-hatred ripping him to shreds, racked his entire being for a justification of why he’d slipped up, when he’d stopped buying into the Bat code as much as Batman himself). _

B gave him a second chance, trusted him to not make the same mistake (_as if the death of such a monster could be called that_) twice.

Dick hadn’t planned on letting anyone down again, because despite the Joker, he wasn’t a killer. He was a hero, a beacon, but above all he was a brother. A son.

But then Arkham happened.

The Joker went after his family, torturing each member in some unique twisted way. He pushed them, and pushed them, until they were dangling over the edge, staring into the darkness and wondering if they should jump **and just get it over with.** Dick looked into their eyes, one by one, and saw the same look of wild desperation, of _danger he_ knew his face had held as he had beat out the Joker’s last breaths of air.

He saw it in Jason, counting his rounds of lethal bullets, going out armed to the teeth and coming back dripping in blood.

He saw it in Tim, his hesitation in lecturing Jason for any sex traffickers or rapists found in Gotham Bay with a bullet to the brain, his look of distaste when a criminal went to the police unscathed.

He saw it in Bruce, whose dedication to the black-and-white scale of justice seemed to be waning, whose new mode of operation seemed to be placing as many criminals as possible on life support.

Dick had said nothing, steeped in denial and alcohol, alone in his Gotham penthouse. He didn’t want to see it, so he pretended it wasn’t there.

But then the Joker’s plan to torture them into madness went sideways, then he watches Damian (his Robin, his little D) unsheathe his katana, approaching the madman hovering over Bruce’s barely conscious form, the same feral look of twisted danger gleaming in his eyes, and the decision isn’t nearly as hard as he’d thought it would be.

His baby brother’s eyes promise vengeance, death, retribution - so Nightwing walks up to where the Joker stands, fists still dripping with his family’s blood, and breaks his neck mid monologue. Clean. Precise. Impersonal. Much more than the Joker deserved. He makes eye contact with his baby brother, whose eyes are stained with shock, confusion (_not violence, or anger_).

_It was an easy choice._

“Grayson...?”

Dick doesn’t answer. His eyes shift towards the man who’d raised him, the man who he trusted above all else. His cowl is off, and he’s looking up at Dick with the most horrified expression Dick has ever seen,

“What…” Batman pauses to cough out the blood pooled in his mouth from Joker’s fists, “What did you do?!”

There’s a frantic note to his voice that makes guilt seep into Dick’s numb heart, but he can’t let the guilt deter him. Not when his family would pay the price in the end.

His eyes drink in the image of his family, knowing that he crossed a line he can’t come back from.

Knowing that this isn’t something he can repent for, be _forgiven _for.

And maybe he doesn’t want forgiveness.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve it.

But someone has to be the bad guy, to be the darkness keeping the light in check.

He’d rather fall alone than have his family suffer.

Dick turns, collecting the mask Joker had ripped off him along with his escrima sticks.

With Damian in shock, the rest of his family bound and slowly regaining consciousness, and Batman too weak to pursue him, he has maybe five minutes before they attempt to detain him.

“DICK WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

He doesn’t need to look back to picture the myriad of emotions flashing through Batman’s eyes.

(**anger**. **disappointment**. **betrayal.**)

And he hesitates, breath held tight in his chest, feeling the iron clad resolve weakening slightly.

Even now, the last thing he wants to do is hurt the man he saw as a father, put him through more pain.

But he must, so Batman can _be _Batman.

So that Tim doesn’t lose hope and his morals,

So that Jason doesn’t cut ties and go back to his pit-induced madness,

So that Damian doesn’t kill,

So that Alfred can have someone to patch up and take care of.

“I did what I had to.”

He whispers, still loud enough for Bruce to hear.

Because he had to.

He **had **to.

There was no other choice, not for him.

Bruce doesn’t respond, and Dick doesn’t know if the silence or the anger hurts more.

He puts one foot in front of the other, limping, his form still bruised and bloodied from the madman’s abuse and the week from hell he’s had.

He leans a hand on the cave wall, near the exit, listening to the sound of his family stirring.

Dick hopes that Bruce hates him, hopes he blames him. Because if Bruce hates Dick, this won’t hurt him, won’t add more weight to the already huge load resting on the man’s shoulders.

So even though it hurts, even though it feels impossible and he wants to do anything but, Dick picks up the pieces of his broken heart and turns his back.

With the death of the Joker firmly weighing on his chest,

Dick Grayson lights a match and watches as his first bridge burns.


End file.
